


Scars

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, mentions of childhood trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 15:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15732321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: They like to explore each other’s scars.





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JazzRaft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/gifts).



> Prompted over at my Tumblr.

“What about this one?” Nyx asked in the familiar game they played on the lazy mornings like this. Stretched out on his little bed, hands tracing the faint lines that marred the body of the prince. 

“It’s too early for this, hero.”

“It’s almost eight, little star,” Nyx said with a kiss to Noctis’ shoulder, to the little mark that was still red and angry and fresh; “tell me about the scar.”

It could take forever for the sunlight to actually reach his window some seasons. In the tail end of summer, as it was, the natural light might never quite make it to the edge of the little window above his bed. His rooms would remain dark and shrouded, like the rest of the district as the sun rose higher above the wondrous expanse of Insomnia. At least until the sun rose the right way through the winter months and flooded his wide front windows with cold light reflected off the buildings across the street.

They both knew that the prince’s own apartments would have been flooded with light by now. That the wide windows were designed to catch every scrap of light through the day— to spread the warmth of the Wall and the sun across the pristine floors regardless of the time of day and season. 

Nyx preferred the stretch of shadows of his own rooms. It felt quiet on these long, lazy mornings. Where he could trace the scars that ruined the perfect image of the prince, and remind him that Noctis was real, just like him. 

“Iggy felt horrible about it,” Noctis started, refusing to move from his position in the bed; stretched out prone with a pillow stolen from Nyx’s side; “until it was all patched up. Then he scolded me for my slower reflexes and said I was too easily distracted.”

“You are.”

“No I’m not.”

“So Ignis actually got you.”

“It was a very unfortunate training accident. And I’ve promised that I’ve learnt my lesson.”

“Which was?”

“I don’t know. I forgot what Specs was going on about already. Something about paying attention, I guess.”

Nyx bit back the laugh that bubbled to the surface with that, and moved to the older scars. The familiar scars. The one that he always meant to ask after. 

He let gentle hands wander across Noctis’ back until he got to it. Until he felt the tension flood through Noctis as he traced the rough, jagged edges where the skin had been torn. It was low on Noctis’ back, and old. Gnarled and painful, and stretched with a boy who had still been growing when he got it. 

“Noct—”

“No.”

Nyx knew what daemon marks looked like. He knew what Scourge did to a person once it had seeped in. He knew that the rough edges, the ragged look of the twisted scar was not just from a weapon. 

He knew the stories from before he got to the Crown City. 

“Then let me,” Nyx said, trying to ease the tension back out of his lover. Trying to apologize for chasing away the warmth and ease of the morning around them. He moved to the edge of the narrow bed, knees on the cold floor as he traced the scar with his lips— leaving more than enough room for Noctis to squirm away from his attention. To shut the game down completely; “it’s from when you were little.”

“Nyx—”

“I know all the stories, little star. Let me tell you my version.”

“You weren’t there.”

“No,” Nyx knew that he was just a kid then too. About eighteen if everyone had the date right. Even if he was there, he would have been useless to look after the prince; “but I’m here now. And so are you.”

He pressed another kiss to the tip of the mark— the edge that started the damage to the prince’s back. “You got this when you were little and it hurt a lot more than any other cut or scar from before or after.”

Noctis turned his face away from Nyx, burrowing into the pillows with a huff. And Nyx pressed forward, hand tracing the line before his lips, right off to where the scar suddenly ended— the twin edge buried somewhere with a governess who had tried to shield the young prince in her care.

“But you survived,” another kiss and Nyx moved his attentions back up along the strong lines of Noctis’ back; “you fought through it.”

“I was healed, Nyx. By the Oracle.”

“So? It was still you, right?” He offered a little smile as Noctis shifted to face him, to roll to his side and sit up. “Walking, living, doing incredibly stupid things while warping, that’s all on you.”

“How do you know?”

“Well I’m pretty sure the Oracle wouldn’t encourage you to warp from your balcony every time Ignis restocks the vegetables.” Nyx grinned at the little huff of a laugh from Noctis. He took it as an invitation to straighten and pull his lover in for a proper kiss. To do more than just admire in the shade of the chill apartment, his knees aching from his position on the floor. “You survived a daemon attack, when you were just eight, little king.”

“I had help.”

“So? You were eight, of course you had help.”

“Is this supposed to be one of those ‘you’re stronger than you think’ talks?”

“Six, no,” Nyx cupped Noctis’ cheeks for a playful kiss to his nose before he stood and stretched and started towards the kitchen for coffee. “It’s a ‘let yourself get distracted in training’ talk. If Iggy gives you hell, just tell him you survived a daemon attack and deserve a break.”


End file.
